


thriller night

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [46]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Canon Gay Character, Cemetery, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Explicit Language, Exploration, Friendship/Love, Halloween, Humor, M/M, No Angst, No Plot/Plotless, No Smut, Paranormal, Pre-Canon, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Supernatural Elements, Teenage Losers Club (IT)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Halloween is supposed to be about trick or treating. Eddie finds himself instead fearfully wandering a graveyard with Richie.





	thriller night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zara_Zara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zara_Zara/gifts).

> Requested by Zara_Zara (AO3): "reddie soft sfw halloween." WE'RE SO CLOSE TO HALLOWEEN. AHHHHHHHHHHH. I'M ALREADY IN HALLOWEEN MODE. I'm crossing my fingers that this entertains my Halloween-lovin' Reddie peeps! Let me know your thoughts! And have a great October! ILY.

*

Halloween is supposed to be about trick or treating. Making jack o' lanterns (Eddie chooses to avoid knives, leaving his pumpkin whole and using Bill's acrylic paints) and apple bobbing (which—Eddie _refuses_ to do, oh god, the water is so _filthy_, _nasty_—).

It's not supposed to be getting _lost_! In the middle of nowhere!

Richie steers them ahead, leading by his flashlight through one of Derry's old, abandoned cemeteries. Everything's broke down and covered in a stinky, grey-green moss. All of the bouquets Eddie glimpses have withered away into dried, flowery remnants. Georgie's funeral never took place here—there's four or five cemeteries in the town and past the town's limits. He saw Bill and Bill's family at the newer Derry Memorial Cemetery, standing solemnly over Georgie's empty, bright green casket. Turtle green.

Fog curls at the bottoms of Eddie's shoes like thin, skeletal digits. Eddie shudders, adjusting his megawatt headlamp. "I don't like this, Richie," he mumbles, whipping around at any noise. "Can we _go_? My mom is gonna shit kittens if she finds out I'm—"

"—a little weenie?" Richie finishes, grinning and turning around. He bonks Eddie's heavy duty flashlight with his own.

"I'm not!" Eddie scowls. He huffs, trudging after Richie walking over fallen, twisting branches. "The cold messes with my _asthma_, dude! I can already feel my throat closing up! You want me to have a _fucking_ asthma attack out here?! I'm gonna have—!"

His next inhale goes wheezy. An agitated Eddie scrambles for his inhaler, holding it to his lips and puffing.

"See, you're fine," Richie proclaims, grinning again. He shrugs at Eddie's frustrated look, tilting his head and moving his body with it, rotating around. Richie's hands jam deep into his pockets visibly threadbare. He's always like this. Not caring. Or _pretending_ to not care. Especially after the recent funeral. "Try to have fun once in your life, Eds. Be spontaneous."

*

They reach a short, steel fence blocking off what appears to be more fog and graveyard.

Eddie's considering asking to turn around again when Richie boosts him up, gripping onto Eddie's sneaker and ankle. Eddie yelps quietly, putting his other sneaker bracing against the fence, hoisting himself, climbing over the top. Richie joins him, leaping over since he's grappling on the other side of the fence, patting off his hands triumphantly.

He could be doing anything else right now… drinking hot cocoa, hot apple cider… going on the "haunted" hay ride with Stanley and the three kids from their History class who agreed to meet up… listening to his Ma rant about _chemical poison_ in Razzles…

Up ahead, a mausoleum of iron and towering, rain-washed stone. Richie jumps up the gigantic steps.

"Richie—"

Eddie hesitates as the other boy plops himself down, stretching out, yanking something from his pack. His eyes bug out. Eddie's heart begins thumping painfully and quick against the bones of his rib-cage.

"Oh_ FUCK_ no!"

Richie ignores him, setting the planchette onto the toy Ouija board. His fingers pose lightly over the item.

"Is there anyone who—"

"_YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO PLAY ALONE, DIPSHIT_!" Eddie hollers, panicking. His little twelve-year-old self practically bolts up the mausoleum-steps. Eddie throws himself down, touching over the rest of the planchette with his index fingers.

Oh god, he doesn't wanna die. Not like this. Not with ghosts and demons and _Richie_ being here.

"Is there anyone here who wants to communicate with us?" Richie tries to ask again, a little less patiently and elbowing his friend. It's so dark with only the beams of the flashlights cutting through the ghostly, thick fog. Something always felt weird about Derry. But, after Georgie vanishing and being deemed dead… Eddie thinks something far more _sinister_ than weird is happening.

The glow-in-the-dark planchette drags down, slow-sluggish. "You're moving that," Eddie says, frowning.

"I'm not."

"_Liar_."

"You're the one moving it."

Richie doesn't look like he's joking, but Eddie can't trust that. He's always pulling pranks on Eddie. "Shut the fuck up," Eddie mutters, fearfully looking around. Richie stares down at the board, narrowing his eyes behind his ugly, massive glasses.

"Z-O…Z-O?" he spells, confused. The planchette keeps moving between the two letters. "Zozo? The hell is _Zozo_?"

Eddie shakes his head, panting. "Dude, stop. This isn't funny."

"I'm not doing it, Eddie," Richie hisses. "Quit fucking around. I know this is _you_. I know you're trying to get me back—"

The board's planchette zooms over to **NO**.

Both boys go silent, horrified.

"Shit," Richie murmurs.

"What's going on—why is it counting down?" Eddie babbles, watching as their hands drag over the list of numbers. One-by-one. He feels cold right now. Bloated. Numb. Like a corpse. "Richie, why the _FUCK_ is it counting down!? Why is it _DOING THAT_—!?"

Richie grits his teeth, kneeling up and clapping both hands over Eddie's hand. He pins them all down the planchette.

After a moment, the item flies out violently from under their clammy, cold fingers.

"… I'm outta here."

"Oh my god, thank you—_no_," Eddie snaps, glaring heatedly at Richie who moves to retrieve the planchette. "Leave it. Leave all of it. We're not bringing back with us the _haunted_ goddamn Ouija board we used in a cemetery. Are you insane?"

"I gotta bring it back to Carole Danner tomorrow," Richie says, complaining. "She owns it."

"And now she knows where to find it," Eddie blurts out.

He hurries down the grey mausoleum-steps, leading this time. His headlamp flickers. Richie can stick around and get his insides eaten by zombies, or ghouls, or maybe even _Henry Bowers_ lurking around in the shadowy, scary fog ready to kill them both—Eddie doesn't want any part of it.

"Eddie!" Richie calls after him, grabbing onto the back of Eddie's jacket. "_Eddie, I'm sorry_—"

"Can we just—" Eddie glances at him, seeing Richie's apologetic look. "—go to your house and watch TV or something? Please?"

"Yeah, okay. Okay. Sorry." The other boy simpers, clapping over Eddie's shoulder awkwardly. Eddie wishes it _wasn't_ awkward. He wishes for a lot of things involving Richie and how he feels and none of them are coming true. "If you're scared, you.… I don't know, you can hold my hand." Even by yellowed, dim light, Eddie can see Richie's face burning red. "Just… don't tell anyone, okay?… …"

"Okay," Eddie repeats softly.

He's awestruck, feeling Richie's hand lowers to his, crossing their palms. The tight clench of their fingers seeking each other.

They'll get back around nine, running around and pigging out on Halloween themed cupcakes and cookies left by Richie's mother. They'll watch a late night showing of "The Thing" in black and white, and Richie will slump onto Eddie as he sleeps, where it's most comfortable and warm and _good_. Eddie will lean the side of his face to Richie's head, napping, basking in him.

It'll be another half a year when they're both thirteen and everything goes to complete hell.

Eddie doesn't regret anything.

*


End file.
